


Ride of a Lifetime

by monday7112



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Porn, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-06
Updated: 2009-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monday7112/pseuds/monday7112
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had always fantasized about the Little Bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride of a Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://simplymarvie.livejournal.com/profile)[**simplymarvie**](http://simplymarvie.livejournal.com/) and [](http://alphafem67.livejournal.com/profile)[**alphafem67**](http://alphafem67.livejournal.com/) requested. I acquiesced. I...don't even know what this is.

It was a well-known fact that since early childhood, Dean Winchester had been a James Dean fan. He had worshipped him, watched all his movies, read all the books about him, knew everything there was to know about him. In fact, the only occasion he could ever remember challenging his father's authority was when John had insisted that he was named after his maternal grandmother, not the dead icon. Sam liked to tease him, referring to Dean as a James Dean fangirl but Dean had never minded the teasing. Truth be told, Sam wasn't far from the mark.

It was also fairly well-known that next to hot women, speed and danger were two of Dean's biggest turn-ons and well, the Little Bastard more or less had the market cornered on those. What was not so well-known was that Dean had often fantasized about fucking a woman in the Little Bastard. Okay. More than fantasized. It was one of his favorite images to get off to when a willing woman couldn't be found (or Sam refused to leave the room for an hour).

When they had thought that they'd found the car during a recent hunt, he'd gone off to try to find a woman to seduce, leaving Sam with the task of confirming the car's identity. Only trouble was, the car had turned out to be fake and so Dean's fantasy--which he realized given the car's track record would probably end in his death--had gone unfulfilled. Until now.

While flipping through John's journal, researching a new job they were working, Dean had found a few references to the Little Bastard. More to the point, the journal contained the location--an old hunter's dumping ground for cursed artifacts. Turns out the car really was cursed and the disappearance of the car in 1960 was the work of a hunter--Paul Jones--that John had done a job with in the early 80s.

Of course, Dean immediately informed Sam that they were going to check it out. Sam had objected but then, Sam wasn't the only one who could work the puppy dog eyes. Or. Okay. Sam _was_ the only one who could work the puppy dog eyes but Dean could be pretty convincing too. Sam had finally agreed to drive out to the site but only after eliciting a promise from Dean that he wouldn't sit in, touch or otherwise go near the car's remains. A promise Dean fully intended to keep.

Okay. Maybe he had never intended to keep the promise. But he also didn't feel like explaining to Sam the level of obsession he had with the car, either. So he'd made the promise, fingers crossed behind his back, and figuring he'd find a way to make it up to Sam, later. Assuming he'd survived, that is.

After finding out they were John's kids, Paul had agreed to show the two brothers the car. The drive out to the site seemed to take forever. Sam laughed, telling him he had never seen Dean so excited for anything in his life. Dean figured Sam was probably right. He couldn't remember ever feeling this excited--or turned on--by what was about to transpire. God knows he'd never felt this way about taking a woman home. Honestly, it was only with a great amount of concentration that he was able to get out of the car and walk inside without embarrassing himself.

The little bit of self-control he had managed to exercise more or less flew out the window once the box was opened and there in front of them was the actual car he had been jerking off to since...well, he'd started jerking off. He could feel his cock harden as all he could think was that he HAD to find a way to be alone with a woman in that car.

But then Paul was going on and on about how even though he'd enlisted the help of several different people in cleansing the car, among them a voodoo priest and a hoodoo priestess, the car had still nearly killed him three different times while he was restoring it.

And Dean realized there was no way in good conscience he could bring a woman to the car. He'd risk his own life, but not another person's. Which was why he had gotten Paul's permission to come back later--research, he'd told him, for a similar case--but he had come alone. It wasn't quite the same but then...he lifted the door to the storage container and stepped inside, his cock suddenly straining against his jeans. He wasn't about to complain.

Dean walked around the car, looking at the four different restraining systems the hunter had used to keep the car in place. "You're a naughty little thing, aren't you?" he growled, running his hand over the hood and along the side to the door. He paused when he reached the handle, rubbing his thumb along the smooth metal. "You'll be good for me, right? I promise I won't hurt you." He waited a moment--not sure why, maybe looking for some objection or permission from the car--then chuckled to himself. What was he doing? It was a car. It wasn't going to answer. He fumbled with the door, feeling suddenly like a virgin again, knowing what he was SUPPOSED to be doing but not quite sure of the actual physical mechanics involved in making it happen. After a few seconds, he managed to get the door open and climbed inside.

It was even better than he had imagined it, sitting inside her. He ran his hand along the steering wheel. The car almost seemed to purr beneath him. "Yeah, that's nice," he said, undoing his jeans and pulling his hardened cock out. He ran his thumb and forefinger along the length of it, from base to tip and then cupped his hand around the shaft, slowly at first, then a bit quicker, his hand settling naturally into a rhythm which would bring him to climax. His free hand first caressed, then tightened around the gearshaft. He bucked backward, moaning, not noticing as he did so that he had knocked the car into gear. His hand quickened its pace, his free hand now gripping the steering wheel until at last he came, an orgasm unlike any he'd ever had before washing over him in waves. He sat in the car for another moment, stunned, not quite able to believe that at least part of his fantasy had finally come true.

He was just buttoning his jeans and preparing to get out of the car when he heard two noises simultaneously. One was pounding on the door and Sam's voice yelling something about how he'd promised to stay away from the car. The other was the creaking and groaning of metal as the car's restraints gave way.

"FUCK!" Dean yelled as the car began to roll down off the blocks at a speed that defied all logic given it wasn't, you know, turned on and he wasn't gunning the gas. "SAM!" Dean called out as the car barrelled toward the door that his brother was standing on the other side of. "GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!"

At that moment, the door swung open and he saw Sam standing there, confusion then panic registering on his face. "DEAN?" he shouted as the car raced closer.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Dean shouted. He twisted the steering wheel to the side, turning it just enough so that Sam was no longer in its path, then yanked the door open and jumped. He landed hard, a few feet from where Sam was standing. The air got knocked out of him when he hit the ground so for a second he couldn't move. Then Sam's panicked face was all he could see.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. "Dean! Are you okay? Jesus Christ what were you thinking, coming out here by yourself. I should have known better than..."

And the next thing he knew, he was laughing. Laughing. It had been perfect. Better than he'd imagined it. Okay. The car had tried to kill him but then how many women that he'd slept with had shared the same sentiment after he'd prepared to leave before the sun had risen the next morning.

The panic on Sam's face switched again to confusion as he sat back, taking in his brother. "What were you even doing here by yourself?"

Dean sat up, brushing the dust off his jacket and then fingering a hole in his jeans. "Dammit," he said. "Ripped my jeans. And these were my favorite pair, too. It was worth it, though."

"Worth it?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean, worth it?"

Dean shook his head. "Trust me, Sammy," he said, standing up and holding out a hand to help Sam up. "You do not want to know."

Sam looked like he was going to object but then nodded. "You're probably right."

The car had rolled to a stop a hundred or so yards down the driveway to the storage unit. "You going to just stand there and stare," Dean asked, "or are you going to help me get this thing back up on blocks?"


End file.
